TwoFaced
by IcantbelieveImdoingthis
Summary: Three faces, three jobs. One-shot, Transformers Animated.


**Two-Faced.**

Three faces, three jobs.

Somewhere down the line, Lord Farplex's ancestors had been common miners. Even though in ages passed his predecessors had amassed considerable wealth and social standing, it had hardened into some sort of tradition that all new heirs would be built along similar design specs – as a reminder of their plebian beginnings or some rot. As a noble of the most refined class, he would rather have not dwelled on such humble and depressing thoughts.

This was nonetheless relevant as Farplex was of considerable bearing, with gears designed for heavy lifting and tearing great boulders from ore mines. Combined with riches and a steady central processor, Farplex was not easily intimidated – yet somehow the transformer seated here in his private reception was putting him on edge.

Dismissing the servants with all haste to ensure privacy (if word of Farplex entertaining this vistor got out, there would be trouble), the lord seated himself opposite his guest. Sitting and sipping from an ornate teacup, Baron Von Blitzwing appeared, at least for the moment, a model aristrocrat. Watching the Cybertronian lift the teacup up to his long blue face, Farplex couldn't help but feel that Blitzwing was tight with the frosty motions of a sociopath.

"Zis oil is excellent." The robot commented in his strange accent, lifting his optics to his host. One was grossly oversized, like a monocle. "Has it been seasoned vith beryllium?"

Farplex leaned forward. "Perhaps we should cut straight to business." He started, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Senator Decimus has become… problematic."

Blitzwing's face suddenly twirled, revealing a stout red face with a curious split in its teeth. Slamming the teacup into the table with a mighty hand, the baron roared as he flattened the furniture. "I vill _crush_ him! He vill be less than _slag_ vhen I finish vith the veakling!" Farplex jumped at the outburst, staring at his ruined table.

"I'll… have that replaced in the morning…" He muttered dumbly, startled at how quickly his peer's personality had switched. Blitzwing's famously malfunctioning motherboard was the reason he was considered objectionable guest-list material for social events. The aristocracy in general was quite forgiving of eccentricities in its membership, but the line was breached when unseemly behavior and property damage occurred.

This fiercer fragment of Blitzwing's personage carried himself differently, hulking like an infantry grunt, with roughly equivalent manners. Watching with up-curled lip as his guest took the fallen teapot of oil and poured it down his gullet, Farplex couldn't help but have his optics drawn to the various military upgrades Blitzwing had squandered his estate accumulating.

_Peculiarities might be tolerable in the upper class,_ Farplex pondered, noting the length of the deadly looking blasters protruding from the baron's purple and beige chassis. _But in the public eye, discretion dictates that some of the more _illegal_ proclivities be less overtly advertised. _

Closing his optics and regrouping his resolve, Lord Farplex assured himself that this was necessary. Decimus had gone too far. He could only trust another noble with the matter, and there were whispers across recharging centers that if you ever had… _problems_ with your peers, Baron Von Blitzwing could be counted on to _resolve_ the issue and keep all three sets of lips sealed.

Looking back across at the glorified hit man, he saw the red visor of the other transformer glaring back at him.

"Decimus is attempting to automate the mining operations." He explained, though the careless gaze Blitzwing carried indicated he found economics less exciting than his more savage hobbies. "The capital outlay is ridiculous, he'll ruin us!"

The head spun again, and Farplex was somewhat comforted that it was the long, collected one. He was more at ease with the Aristocrat than the Ruffian.

"So, you vill betray your business partner." Blitzwing said thoughtfully, then suddenly, without warning, his face changed to a jet black apparition with an impossible red grin. "I know a little about being two-faced myself!" He laughed, gesticulating wildly.

Realising anything more than the name of the target was too much information for the Baron, Lord Farplex stood up, demonstrating that their business was concluded. The Insane Blitzwing leapt to his feet with demented finesse.

"I trust you will understand if I pay after the deed is done." He said, opening a panel in his arm and revealing the promised credit card. Blitzwing's calmest side came out, extending his hand.

"Then you can pay now." The mad noble advised as they shook. "Senator Decimus is dead."

Farplex was stunned. "What?" Staring down, he saw that Blitzwing was serious, and after a moment gaping, remembered himself and spoke. "How?"

"He vished to commission me to kill you." The noble said, folding his hands behind his back. Recognizing the panicked look in his employer's eyes, Blitzwing quickly went on. "You, of course, paid far more."

Blinking hard for a moment, Farplex realized the baron was still waiting for his pay. Fumbling a little, he handed over the card for Blitzwing to transfer into his accounts later. Storing his reward in his forearm, the fractured Cybertronian turned to address Farplex one last time. "It certainly is vise of you to insist on paying after the job." He said, before letting his face turn to the ghoulish grin. "After all, Decimus paid up front!"

Farplex was confused, but not for long, as the shorter transformer leveled his blaster cannons and fired.

--

Leaving the estate was amusingly easy. None of the servants were in the least bit aware of their master's demise and their implicit freedom. They didn't even interrupt the red-faced Blitzwing as he smashed some priceless art on the way out. Questioning a nobleman was worth its weight in turbo-lashings, after all.

Coming outside, he headed directly into the steel alleys of the filthy streets. Looking around carefully, all three heads agreed that the rendezvous was empty, and he felt the forbidden thrill of slumming it while he waited for his final employer to arrive. The grinning insanity within Blitzwing prepared to dance for joy when a voice shook him from behind.

"I trust that you completed the task satisfactorily." Said a mouth like an open grave.

Turning around, Blitzwing was stunned to see that the gigantic form of Megatron, who would have towered over Farplex, had somehow snuck up behind him. The grey colossus, cut with vicious slashes of red, looked down at the noble evenly.

"You should have seen it!" Cooed the black-faced Blitzwing, blissfully unintimidated. "His circuits were spread out in a lake of oil, like a -"

"Good." Megatron stated, uninterested in the details. Perhaps jarred by the interruption, Blitzwing's countenance shifted, revealing the refreshingly competent blue face. Reaching into the compartment in his arm, the noble withdrew two credit cards and presented them to Megatron.

He took them without thanks. "Two nobles and ample funds." The revolutionary tallied. "You have proven yourself. We shall officially swear you in as a Decepticon when we arrive at base." Mission complete, Megatron turned around, putting Blitzwing in his place – behind him.

The sudden loss of rank meant nothing to the many sides of Blitzwing, nor did the money. The Decepticons offered a third, more valuable opportunity that high society simply could not yield him – plenty of good, healthy murder. All three of his faces smiled at the thought of a bright future.

-

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**Author's notes:**

Just something that came into and out of my head quickly. Written in a day. I'm a G1 fan all the way, but I'm greatly enjoying the Animated series.


End file.
